


Just Right

by aftersoon (notboldly)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: 6+1 Fic, First Time, Kink meme (except I lost the prompt), M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notboldly/pseuds/aftersoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This wasn't exactly the normal reason Tony Stark had someone in his bed. Or, 6 times the Hulk fell asleep in Tony's bed and one time Bruce did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Right

Just Right

********

**One**

The first time it happened was immediately after the Chitauri and Tony’s unfortunate fall-and-catch from the sky, and under the circumstances, Tony was inclined to forgive and forget when he found Bruce lying naked in the remains of what had once been a very expensive bed. It was even funny at the time, the sight of a quiet scientist sprawled across a Hulk-sized dent in a compressed mattress and squashed frame, body filling not even a third of the space. It had been _more_ funny when Tony—plan to retrieve regular clothes forgotten—crept over and tapped Bruce on the shoulder with one metal-enclosed hand, and Bruce startled awake fast enough to roll further into the hole, fumbling for a sheet at the same time. Tony laughed and Bruce flushed, looking embarrassed but happier than he’d seemed in the whole two days they’d known each other. Tony didn’t mind at all, because in the great scheme of destruction, one bed was nothing.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. It’s shawarma time.” Bruce shifted and the sheet drooped, soft blue cotton hiding not quite as much as intended. Tony leered. “Unless you’re making an offer, because hey, food can always wait.”

Bruce smiled at him, and Tony felt like a success.

“Cute, Tony, but no thanks.” Tony wasn’t even insulted when Bruce stood and kept the sheet close, because it wasn’t a concern entirely without basis. “Where are my pants?”

Tony shrugged. “How should I know? They probably fell off somewhere along the way.” Because Tony was a generous guy, he walked to one of his dressers and pulled out jeans and a t-shirt, handing them over without hesitation. Bruce seemed to debate accepting them, but he eventually did so with a nod and a quiet ‘thank you.’ Tony brushed it off. “Oh, hey, have you ever had shawarma?”

Bruce smiled faintly as he pulled on the pants. Tony refrained from making a Hulk-going-commando joke. “I had homemade shawarma in Damascus. Payment for services rendered.”

It just figured.

********

**Two**

When Loki escaped two days later, it surprised no one except a heartbroken Thor, and that was motivation enough that the Avengers located and re-captured him in under an hour. That _did_ surprise people, mostly S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel, because after the rocky start, everyone assumed that it would take a while for them to get the hang of working together in non-emergency conditions. Everyone assumed, and Tony took no small joy in seeing them proven wrong; the Avengers worked like they were made for each other, pieced together like a fine machine. Tony was feeling triumphant and tired, the result of a good fight and excellent teamwork and success, and he was ready to drop by the time he reached the Stark (Avenger) Tower. Or screw something, depending.

His newly-imported bed was already occupied, or at least the remains were. Tony had wondered where the Hulk had wandered off to after the battle, but considering Bruce’s general MO was to disappear and show up dramatically on an old motorcycle (or so he’d heard), he hadn’t been too concerned. That the Hulk had made it several miles back to New York City in the dark and climbed the tower like King Kong, finding his way to familiar surroundings before changing back, warmed Tony’s heart just a hint. Trust was never a bad thing, after all, and despite what Bruce said—no, Tony didn’t believe he was just going to disappear off into the sunset, not after everything—it was nice that even some small part of him considered the Tower home. Of course, it would have been nicer if Tony’s bed wasn’t a pile of splinters (honestly, he hadn’t even slept in it yet, and the frame had been maple, from Italy) but he considered it a small sacrifice for Bruce not waking up in some strange place alone.

Tony tossed a blanket over him and left, vowing to try that much harder to keep Bruce here.

********

**Three**

The third time it happened, Tony was a more surprised than amused, simply because Bruce had his _own_ bed in the Tower at that point, in the newly-reconstructed wing with a special Hulk entrance. Tony had expected that he wouldn’t de-suit to find a naked Bruce in his bed again (well, maybe in his dreams, but that was starting to become normal) and so naturally he wasn’t entirely prepared when JARVIS reported that Bruce was missing from his suite but not the Tower. There was only one place an unconscious Bruce could be, and sure enough, Tony went to change shirts and found him groggy and apologetic in the remains of another bed.

Tony shrugged like it was no big deal, because it wasn’t; when the Hulk came out, you just had to expect property damage.

“Morning, Goldilocks,” he quipped, and Bruce blinked at him. His hair was mussed, tangled; he must have tossed and turned, which wasn’t exactly par for the course for Bruce, but since Tony saw at least four exposed springs, he figured the restlessness was justified. Tony wouldn’t be buying that brand of mattress again.

“Goldilocks? Tony, my hair is black. And gray.”

“If you don’t know the story about the three bears, I’m not going to tell it to you.” Okay, so maybe he would. “You know? ‘Fits just right’? Took three tries.”

“You’re hilarious. I think.” Bruce looked around, wincing as he did. “Sorry about…this.”

Tony responded by tossing a wood chip at him. “No big deal. It was just walnut.” From Germany. “Although, I gotta say, it's kind of a surprise this time. Don’t like your room?”

Bruce flushed, and Tony was inordinately pleased for no good reason.

“I think the Other Guy just likes familiar smells. Since he fell asleep here once…” Bruce trailed off and Tony nodded, having not considered that before. That was why he liked Bruce so much: smart enough to communicate, different enough to have new ideas. (And other reasons, but that was beside the point.)

If this room made the Hulk feel happy and safe, Tony would see what he could do.

********

**Four**

Meeting Doctor Doom was both a great honor and a colossal pain in the ass, because as far as villains went, he wasn’t that bad. His motives were simple enough (take over the world) and his methods were downright brilliant (computers rather than an army), and Tony was impressed, mostly. As a fellow ridiculously rich guy entering the world of heroes and villains, Tony could even relate on a superficial level, because hey, who knew what he would have been doing if his stock options had tanked completely post-Afghanistan and he hadn't gotten a cool suit out of the deal. Besides that, the Fantastic Four were just annoying; Tony could see them driving a man to villainy, motives aside, and so when it came to that, Tony totally understood.

He was a bit less understanding about the whole killing-the-power-of-the-arc-reactor thing, and it made actually chasing Doom through the streets both difficult and unfulfilling. He got away because Tony was running on near-empty, and try as he might to lure him back out again (because really, Victor von _Doom_? It was just asking for someone to become a super villain. All Tony’s name asked for was bad puns.) it just didn’t work.

The fight ended with Tony tired, weak, and defeated. Not a good day, even though he got to lean on (grope) Steve all the way back to the Tower, and Clint was nice enough to offer a grope of his own when Tony looked just so pathetic. They’d lost Bruce again somewhere between fiftieth and forty-seventh, but Tony figured he had just made it back home again, or would eventually. And he was tired. Very tired. Super tired.

His bed was destroyed again, and that annoyed Tony a little. A tad.

“Damnit, Bruce. Seriously?” Bruce stirred but not enough to wake up, and Tony just shook his head, waited while JARVIS and the machines pulled the suit off him. He and Bruce had _switched rooms_ in acknowledgement of the Hulk’s preferences; what the hell was he doing here? At least the frame was metal this time, although the huge deflection probably didn’t make for a good night’s sleep. No springs though; he loved space mattresses. So it wasn't that bad, surprise aside.

Although, at the moment, Tony wouldn’t have cared if he was sleeping on the floor.

“Move over, you green slug you.” He shoved Bruce in the shoulder and climbed into the dip left behind, pleasantly warm and smelling soft and Bruce-like. It was nice, although the exhaustion probably helped on that front.

When Bruce happened to roll down the slope of damaged mattress and land on top of him, that was nice for entirely different reasons, but fortunately, Tony was too tired to do much more than snore.

********

**Five**

Over the course of the next two months, Tony—yielding to the inevitable—spent ten grand designing a bed frame capable of sustaining Hulk-sized loads. It was probably overkill and it certainly seemed that way when fight after fight after the last time, the Hulk Bruced out in some obscure but nearby location rather than trudging back to the Tower. Tony was starting to feel like it was a waste, in fact, when there was an invasion of some sort of shape shifting bats around the time Doctor Doom showed up again (unrelated, as it turned out.) The combination of villains and hostile visitors kept the Avengers busy for hours because coordinating for two different types of enemy was something of a pain, and by the time bats had been either captured or flame-broiled and Doctor Doom had been put in jail, most of them were hanging on only because falling asleep in the middle of cracked asphalt was a killer on the spine. Well, all except Tony, who had been fortunate enough to be waking up from his natural sleep cycle at around 3 p.m. that day, not that it helped much. He may not have been tired, but adrenaline was adrenaline, and that meant he was ready to pounce on somebody, fight or fuck. Neither was really an option (Natasha would kill him, so would probably anyone else), so he did what all super geniuses did when faced with drooping friends and an overabundance of energy: worked out in the gym while dictating equations to their nosy AI.

First, though, he went back to his room to acquire workout clothes and shed the suit. Upon arriving, he was almost pleased to find Bruce passed out in the middle of a bed that had either survived the Hulk's weight or just been lucky enough to have Bruce fall on it instead. Tony said "almost pleased," because on the one hand, at least the bed was getting some use (it's not like Tony used it regularly, design aside.) On the other hand, Bruce was naked because he was _always_ naked post-Hulk, and he was sprawled out like an offering save for a strategically-draped sheet, and he looked blissed out and happy and _he snored_. The combination was awesomely endearing, but Tony was horny, and that meant he was frustrated more than anything; thanks to surprise-Hulk at any given time, it wasn't like Tony planned to bring anyone else back to roll around naked in his bed. And as funny as it was that the Hulk was _cock-blocking_ him these days, he couldn't exactly bring himself to be amused right that second. Realistically, he didn't mind Bruce's company right where he was, at least under normal circumstances. More realistically, though, Tony wished Bruce had ended up there through different means, because this was starting to get out of hand.

He didn't wake him, though; there was no point. Instead, Tony went to the gym and beat the hell out of a couple punching bags, and he felt a little better.

********

**Six**

As much as it surprised people to hear it, Tony generally liked the Hulk; not just Bruce, but his terrifying alter ego as well, and for different, far less sexy or sappy reasons. The Hulk, when not fighting aliens or batting Iron Man around like he occasionally liked to do, was mostly playful and frightened, not unlike an animal recently released from captivity. Tony understood the mentality for reasons he would prefer not to get into, but the point was that the Hulk was not the stuff of his nightmares. If anything, he was less terrifying than certain people, because the Hulk didn't really do anything out of malice or hate. Just fear and anger.

Of course, when Tony said he _liked_ the Hulk, he didn't mean it the way most people probably interpreted the statement. And he definitely didn't mean that he felt completely at ease to be without his suit, because even playful-Hulk could break him in half without meaning to, or crush him accidentally. Fortunately, it had never really come up, because the Hulk played hard and crashed hard, always becoming Bruce almost immediately after the stimulus disappeared.

Imagine Tony's surprise when, after one battle in particular, he went back to his room expecting Bruce, and found the Hulk. Completely awake, completely naked, and watching him.

Tony waved.

"Hi there, Big Guy. Not tired tonight?"

The Hulk didn't respond, not immediately. Tony moved slowly to remove his suit as per his usual routine, and the pieces were pulled away with a wrenching sound that made him wince. The Hulk, though, didn't even flinch, not even when Tony was once again in civilian clothes. He just…sat there.

Then he grabbed Tony in what could only be called a gentle grip, because although it hurt— _God yes it did_ —it wasn't actually violent in the slightest, just compression around his torso and arms. Not enough to damage but certainly enough to be noticed—Tony couldn't understand it at all.

"LIKE."

Tony winced, because there were a few things that made him uncomfortable about the situation. For one, the last version of speech that had included anything remotely close to "HULK LIKE" had ended with a '92 Chrysler being smashed with a tree. For another…well, there was nude Bruce and then there was nude Hulk, and there was something totally unnerving about sitting on top of a thigh the size of a tree trunk and a dick the length of his arm, uninterested as it seemed in their hug. And it was a hug; as soon as Tony realized it, he returned the gesture with a pat on the nearest muscled shoulder.

"I like you too, buddy."

The grip eased, becoming looser, but only because the Hulk started to shrink. It was the first time Tony had been this close to Bruce when he was changing, and there was something interesting about going from feeling smothered to feeling cradled. Big difference. Almost heartbreaking in the contrast, because Bruce still held him like he thought Tony might break.

Also, Bruce was naked and Tony was in his lap, and the combination of these two things meant that hugging was the least of their problems. Then Bruce shifted, a definitely hard cock rubbed against Tony's ass, and there was a groan of need from one or both of them.

" _Tony_."

Tony turned to look at Bruce at the needy breath, prepared to tell him that this was acceptable in _every possible meaning of the word_ …and he saw that Bruce's eyes were closed, his face relaxed, breathing even. Unconscious. Sleeping, sitting up, holding Tony and _moaning his name._

It was interesting, to say the least. Disappointing too, but Tony was a big man. He'd dealt with these sorts of things before (although, admittedly, not exactly), and so disentangling himself was easy enough. With no Tony to lean on, Bruce tipped to one side and continued to sleep, completely undisturbed. Tony almost hated him for it.

He couldn't help that he still walked away from the bed with an odd sort of strut, though, because Bruce and he had some reckoning to do when he woke up.

********

**Extra**

Bruce probably would have slept the day away if Tony had been anywhere even close to patient, but since this was not the case, he got all of four hours rest before Tony decided enough was enough. Four hours was enough for any man, he decided, and considering he had spent that time alternately doing mind-breaking physics or sitting there ignoring the renewed ache in his pants, he decided that it was also definitely enough for an exhausted Bruce.

Tony grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him awake, because the other option was just to jump on him, and that was no good at all. (Or very good, depending.)

When Bruce's eyes snapped open, they were just-barely alert.

"Wha—Tony? Something wrong?" Tony watched him resist a yawn, watched him not pull away from Tony's hands on his bare shoulders, and Tony thought _fucking finally._

"Yes and no. The Hulk put the moves on me a few hours ago. Thought you might want to know."

" _What_?" Bruce's eyes were all but bugging out of his head, and he stared at Tony like he was a lunatic before he forced a sound of amusement. "You're joking, right?"

"Nope." Tony didn't elaborate, choosing instead to watch Bruce fidget, twisting a corner of sheet around and around his fingers. "Nothing to say?"

"The Hulk reacts to things differently," Bruce hedged, and Tony shook his head.

"Uh-huh. Not buying it." Bruce looked up in clear exasperation, and Tony smiled cheekily. "Let's just say that I have reason to believe that you're leaving out a hell of a lot when you say things like that."

Bruce stared at him for another few seconds.

"Nothing happened?"

Tony wasn't cruel enough to leave him hanging when he sounded so frightened, so he just shrugged and sat on the corner of the bed, deliberately casual.

"Just cuddling, but not for want of wanting once you shrank down to normal. You were unconscious, as usual. And moaning. And squirming. Imagine my restraint." Bruce was blushing but looking almost satisfied with himself, and Tony snorted. "So help me, if it happens again, I'm just riding you awake."

Another twist of the sheets, a deeper blush.

"I wouldn't mind."

Tony smiled, because _honesty, finally._

"I'll make a note." Tony would, too—he was a man of his word about these things, or mostly. "But if it's all the same, Bruce, I'd also like to _kiss_ you awake, and on mornings when you're in my bed for reasons other than the Hulk needing a place to crash." It wasn't a declaration of love, but honesty deserved honesty, and Tony was only saying what he meant, what he wanted.

Bruce looked like he believed him too, albeit very tentatively.

"Really?"

Tony just gave him a look that made Bruce laugh, a quiet happy rumble, and Tony thought _what the hell_ and dived in.

The sound of happiness tasted good on Bruce's lips, more so when Bruce pulled him close, hooked his leg around Tony's thighs, fumbled for his zipper. Tony had to hand it to him: for a man who made a fair show of being modest and polite and decent all around, he didn't hesitate when presented with the opportunity. And it wasn't complicated, because Tony hadn't _exactly_ planned for this to happen so easily, not with Bruce; a quick hand job was about all Bruce had the energy for and about all Tony needed, but that was fine. Bruce kissed him before he slipped off to sleep again, a quick kiss of a bargain sealed, and Tony made plans to do it better in the morning.

At least the bed had survived.

********

End


End file.
